


when you look at me, who do you see?

by InterstellarRenegade



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, as is unavoidable with these two, explicit tag will eventually be relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarRenegade/pseuds/InterstellarRenegade
Summary: He was…pretty, Kanda thought. The word felt foreign attached to Alma’s visage; it was too delicate, too simple for someone like him. But Kanda’s mind was blank of anything else.When death didn't come for them in Mater, Kanda and Alma are faced with a new handful of complications. Amidst blossoming feelings of romance and targets on their backs, each of them has to come to terms with who they are, while haunted by who they once were.
Relationships: Kanda Yuu/Alma Karma
Comments: 28
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

There had been an infinitesimally small chance, Kanda thought, that he would ever be in this situation. It had been unlikely from the start that he would ever lay eyes on Alma Karma again – impossible in his mind, actually – but not only had he seen him _alive_ , they’d fought, tried to kill each other, and broken each other all over again. It was only by Allen’s grace that they had escaped their own demises, and now Kanda was sitting against a pillar in a pile of fine sand and watching Alma’s deteriorated body regenerate itself.

Neither of them could have possibly planned for this outcome. In fact, Kanda’s own plan had involved Alma dying in his arms as Kanda himself withered away. He thought it was what they both deserved – what they wanted, even – after being forced time and time again to get back up and continue the fight. Expiring in the sand, uninterrupted, would have been bliss. But it was a fate all too romantic for both of them. Their Second Exorcist genes weren’t going to let go of them that easily.

Curled up in the sand next to Kanda, Alma sputtered into a weak little cough. Just the action of turning his head was hard, but each time Kanda looked over, Alma appeared more whole. His legs had been regenerating, clouded in steam and a faint green glow; his knees were almost visible now. Most of the odd protrusions on his body had molded back into a normal human structure, and the akuma markings that had marred his skin were consistently growing faint.

Kanda watched Alma’s back rise and fall, oddly comforted by the steady cadence of his breathing. He wondered; did akuma breathe? The only thing exorcists learned about akuma were how to kill them. Kanda battled for a while with his lack of knowledge, wracking his brain, trying to think if he’d ever noticed anything in his countless battles with akuma that would provide him insight on their habits – other than the habit of killing exorcists. The information was trivial at best, but it was something to keep his mind occupied in the silence, to keep him from thinking about what to do next.

Was it naïve to think that Alma was becoming more human than akuma? Try as he might, Kanda couldn’t squash the twinkle of hope in his chest. Would Alma regain his body? Would he wake up? These questions in Kanda’s mind were louder than any thoughts he tried to quiet them with.

Their situation was quite unprecedented, after all. They were the only two Second Exorcists in existence, the only two who bore that black mark searing into their chests. They were meant to survive and surpass all odds; they were _meant_ to be inhuman in their capabilities. Even if the akuma was planted inside him, Alma’s DNA was still meant to purge it.

In an attempt to put his mind to rest logically, Kanda moved his own fragile body next to Alma’s. His back was facing Kanda, but leaning over him gave Kanda a full view of his face. Some dark and thick liquid was leaking from his mouth and nose, pooling around his head and shoulders and seeping into the sand below. Wiping under Alma’s nostrils, Kanda gathered the substance on his thumb. It was dark matter, just a shade too purple to be blood. It was even dripping from Alma’s eyes and ears, tracking slow paths across his skin to the ground.

The Second Exorcist marking on Alma’s chest had expanded due to the severity of his injuries, black lightning sparking across his shoulder and even reaching over his back and bicep. Kanda’s tattoo was in a similar state, ever growing as his cracked skin sealed back together, and his hair regained its dark pigment. Perhaps Kanda’s theory wasn’t so naïve after all.

Alma was still unconscious, so Kanda chose not to bother him. He could feel the heat radiating off of Alma’s body, feverish, but Kanda had no idea how to help him. Getting some rest was the only medicine they had, and Kanda would’ve been lying to say he wasn’t exhausted. Keeping his eyes open was a challenge at that point.

When Kanda roused from sleep, the cavern was darker, illuminated only by moonlight shining through gaps in the ceiling overhead. He was cold, wishing he had more to wear than his tattered exorcist pants, but he suddenly remembered the absolute furnace Alma had been earlier. Kanda snapped up to attention, alarm racing through his head as soon as he noticed Alma was missing from his side. He calmed when he registered a trail through the sand, indicative of Alma dragging his body across it.

The trail led downhill to a small pool at the cavern’s edge. Water trickled in through a large crack in the wall, making a small but deep pond, if the darkness underneath the surface was anything to go by. Alma was sitting in the shallows with the water up to his shoulders, holding his knees up to his chest. He turned his head when he heard Kanda’s footsteps behind him.

The first thing Kanda thought to say was, “You could’ve woken me up.”

Alma blinked up at him. Dark pigment stained the bags under his eyes, and his skin looked pale, powder white. His legs still weren’t fully formed, regenerating his ankles where they were underwater, but there was no longer dark matter leaking from his body. He must’ve come to the pond when he woke up to clean himself of the sludge.

When Alma turned back around without a word, Kanda didn’t know what to say or do. Alma looked defeated and exhausted, and though Kanda wondered about his take on their situation, or more simply how long he’d been awake, he felt as if he shouldn’t bother him. Kanda tried to think of other things he could do while leaving Alma alone.

Running through a checklist mentally, Kanda outlined what they would need in the coming days. They had shelter already, and the water flowing from the cavern wall should be clean enough for them to drink. Theoretically, food wouldn’t be necessary for a while, but his and Alma’s regenerating bodies would benefit from nutrition sooner rather than later. Alma especially needed something to continue sustaining the reconstruction of his limbs.

Alma coughed below him, spitting dark matter into the water he sat in. Kanda watched it dissipate until the pond’s surface was clear again, and it was then that Alma spoke, without raising his head. “Yuu,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’m cold.”

It was strange how such a simple statement threw Kanda’s body into action. “I’ll find something for you to wear,” he said, stepping away from the pool. Alma was probably too cold to get out of the water.

There were a few crumbled doorways and other openings scattered around the cavern walls, leading to places where the people in Mater must’ve lived and congregated when their town was still populated. Kanda navigated a few hallways in the dark, squinting into side rooms with rotting wood furniture and caved in roofs. He found a few tattered blankets and grabbed them even though they looked fragile enough to disintegrate in his hands. In one room he found a dresser on its side, and opening the drawers yielded a collection of clothing in varying conditions. Kanda pulled out what he thought was still usable.

Returning to the main cavern, Kanda followed his own footsteps in the sand back to the pond. Alma hadn’t moved, but he seemed receptive to the offerings Kanda dumped on the ground behind him. He drifted closer to shore as Kanda sorted out his findings, offering Alma the best-kept pair of pants as well as a shirt that was probably too big for him.

“I’m going to go look for something to start a fire,” Kanda decided as both a way to give Alma privacy while he dressed and out of the need for more warmth. He pulled his own found shirt over his head.

Alma responded with a small nod, dragging himself fully onto shore. Kanda hurried back to the maze of rooms stretching from the cavern walls, grabbing decrepit furniture and unsalvageable scraps of cloth to help get a fire started. He didn’t stay gone for long, coming back with his haul to dump it a few feet away from Alma. He was rolling his pants up past his reforming feet.

Admittedly, Kanda had never had to start a fire without the help of a match, and it proved to be somewhat of a challenge. Time and time over his sparks fizzled out, but Kanda’s usual anger was replaced with an empty sort of frustration. He was too tired for an outburst, especially in the presence of Alma, who looked exhausted enough to pass out at any moment. By the time Kanda finally had a flame worth looking at, Alma was already asleep sitting up.

Kanda coaxed his flame into a small fire, breaking off the legs of the chair he’d dragged through the sand and arranging them carefully around the flickering flame. Once they started burning, Kanda was satisfied with his creation, and he crouched to attend to Alma, who was swaying toward the newfound heat in his sleep.

Alma jumped awake as soon as Kanda touched him, his eyes glazed over with sleep but still wide with fear until he recognized Kanda leaning over him. He glanced over to the fire, and without encouragement let his body fall into the sand next to it, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Kanda brought him one of the blankets he’d scavenged and tucked him in, hoping he wouldn’t roll into the flame while he slept.

Sleep came less easily for Kanda, and he rolled under his own blanket until the fire had dimmed to embers. He had no concept of time – surely he had slept for a few hours before waking up to find Alma in the pond, but maybe it had been longer, judging by how much his body wanted to stay awake. He was still tired, though, and desperate to relieve the aching of his bones and muscles as they reshaped themselves. He couldn’t imagine the pain Alma was feeling, half his body being completely rebuilt.

Kanda eventually found some solace in a fitful nap. He dreamt about that woman in the field of dead flowers, and all he could feel was the pain of death in the face of her beaming smile. Kanda tried to close his eyes against the brightness – it was like direct sunlight burning into his eyes – but when he opened them again it was Alma’s face above him, surrounded by a cascade of lotuses.

This had never happened before. Kanda dreamt about the woman frequently, though it had been years since he’d seen her in person, like he used to as a child. He’d never once dreamt about Alma. Even after ripping his body apart nine years ago, Kanda hadn’t had one dream or nightmare about his old friend. It was odd to see him in his dream now, as a fully grown adult.

Neither of them spoke, so Kanda just observed. Alma still resembled himself as a child, mainly because of his dark hair and bright eyes – but as a whole, he looked very different. He’d lost the round babyface Kanda remembered, his features more defined all down to the angled slope of his nose and the sharp cut of his jaw. He was…pretty, Kanda thought. The word felt foreign attached to Alma’s visage; it was too delicate, too simple for someone like him. But Kanda’s mind was blank of anything else.

At the same time Kanda lifted his hand, Alma lifted his own, and they both froze. He’d just had the urge to touch Alma’s face, but the illusion of a dream suddenly shattered – this wasn’t a dream. Kanda had been awake since he’d seen Alma. He dropped his hand quickly next to his side, and Alma tucked his back into his lap.

“Yuu.” He still sounded sleepy, and looked sickly. “I’m hungry.”

Of course – Alma must’ve woken Kanda to find food. The sun was shining overhead, rays draping Alma’s shoulders in soft yellow. The thought that he was pretty resurfaced, but Kanda shoved it away as he sat up, making Alma lean back out of his space. At a glance, Kanda could see his body was fully regenerated. He looked completely human.

“There’s a town not too far from here,” Kanda explained, scratching sleep from his eyes. “We can find something to eat there.”

Ready as ever to leave, Kanda stood up, but Alma didn’t follow. He shifted from knee to knee in his position on the ground, looking up at Kanda guardedly. Confused, Kanda offered his hand to help pull his companion up. He was the one who wanted food anyway, though Kanda couldn’t deny he was starving as well.

Alma grabbed Kanda’s hand firmly, and Kanda had to brace himself as Alma used him as a prop to pull the full weight of his body upward. Standing, his legs shook violently, and he gripped onto Kanda’s arm with both hands to the point of pain. He couldn’t hold the position for more than a second before his knees buckled, and he would’ve let himself fall to the ground if Kanda hadn’t pulled him against his chest.

Trying to get all the weight off his legs, Alma clutched onto Kanda’s shoulders like a lifeline, shifting from foot to foot like he was standing on hot coals. He spilled a string of curses against Kanda’s neck, and Kanda finally tucked his arms around Alma’s waist to help support him.

“I can’t,” Alma panted. “Fuck, I can’t. Let me go.”

Both of them tumbled to the ground as soon as Alma sent himself downward, but Kanda did his best to break their fall with his arms behind Alma’s back. Sweat was beading on Alma’s brow, but he looked relieved to be off his feet. Though they looked fully healed, his legs apparently weren’t in the shape to be used. Kanda had lost plenty of limbs during the Second Exorcist experiments, but they always had been reattached, not regrown. He could imagine the latter experience was a lot more painful.

Realizing he was still hunched over Alma, Kanda backed up to give him space to recover. His breaths were stabilizing, but his feet were twitching in the sand with violent spasms. It looked like the muscles and ligaments under his skin were reshaping themselves with every jerk across the ground. Alma wouldn’t be walking comfortably anytime soon.

“I can go out by myself,” Kanda said. “It shouldn’t take me very long.”

Alma didn’t reply for a while. He’d thrown his arm over his eyes, but Kanda could see the angry curve of his mouth and the way his teeth burrowed into his bottom lip. To avoid having to take responsibility if Alma started crying, Kanda stood and looked around, trying to find the best way to exit their safe haven.

A hand wrapped around Kanda’s ankle. “Don’t leave me.”

Something in Alma’s voice sounded so broken that Kanda didn’t even have the will to protest. He sat back down quietly, trying but failing to see Alma’s expression under his arm. He’d always been clingy as a kid, but this was different. This was Alma succumbed to anxiety – what did he think was going to happen if he was left alone? What was it that he feared?

It wasn’t hard to think of a few possibilities. Death for either of them seemed unlikely at that point, after all the healing their bodies had done, but it wasn’t impossible. Someone coming to find them – whether it be the Black Order or the Noah – either could be searching for them. Kanda had a feeling neither of those things were bothering Alma, from the way he kept his fingers curled in Kanda’s pants leg. Kanda had been the one to abandon him all those years ago, after all.

They needed to talk. Even after saying their goodbyes to each other the day previous, there were too many things left unsaid between them, nothing a first and final “I love you” could patch up so easily. Yet Alma didn’t move, didn’t even uncover his eyes, and Kanda didn’t either. For hours, they sat silently next to each other. Kanda began to get uncomfortable and tight with nerves, needing to _do_ something before he turned into sand himself.

Alma ended the silence, though not on purpose. As his stomach broke into a loud growl, Alma grabbed it with both hands as if to silence it, looking embarrassed. A little breath escaped Kanda’s nose before he could stop it, his mouth twitching. Alma looked up at him with an expression akin to mortification.

“I can carry you, you know,” Kanda suggested. “Into town. I haven’t lost all my strength.”

“Yuu-” Alma protested, but Kanda had already made up his mind.

“Come on,” Kanda insisted, kneeling next to him. “On my back or I’ll carry you like a girl.”

After staring blankly at him, Alma finally resigned himself to crawl onto Kanda’s back. He locked his arms tightly over Kanda’s shoulders, and after Kanda stood was able to do the same with his legs around Kanda’s waist. He wasn’t too heavy, but Kanda did hope the town was as close as he remembered. After what they’d been through, he felt weak on his own feet.

Kanda navigated out of the cavern through one of the tunnels, and they surfaced into fresh air cresting a little hill. Kanda could make out rooftops in the distance, past an expanse of forest to the east. He hooked his arms under Alma’s knees and started walking.

Much like their time in the cavern, it was a quiet walk. Alma seemed content with his head buried in the crook of Kanda’s neck, breathing deeply as if he was sleeping. His hair was surprisingly soft brushing up against Kanda’s cheek.

“It’s been a long time…since I’ve been able to touch someone…” Alma murmured, slipping one of his hands into the neck of Kanda’s shirt.. “I forgot how warm…how warm people are.”

Kanda wondered if Alma meant to say that aloud, or if he was supposed to respond. He wondered how Alma really felt after being confined for so long; Kanda thought he’d been unconscious and unaware, but his acknowledgement of it being “a long time” begged to differ. If he’d been conscious in that vat of liquid for nine years…that would drive anyone insane.

“What was it like?” Kanda asked. “I thought you weren’t awake until the Noah broke you out.”

Alma shifted uncomfortably on Kanda’s back, pulling his hand back out of Kanda’s shirt - an action that, strangely, Kanda had to stop himself from protesting. It took a moment before Alma replied, “Don’t worry about it.”

Ah, so he didn’t want to talk about it. Kanda couldn’t say it was unexpected, but curiosity still burned in his chest. He wanted to know what they’d done to Alma for all those years. He wanted to know what had become of him after Kanda left him to die.

By the time Kanda and Alma breached the outer edge of the nearby town, Alma had become heavy on Kanda’s shoulders. The sun had set while they were underneath the canopy of trees in the forest, and there was no moon in the sky amongst the stars. Kanda drifted through the orange glow of streetlamps toward the middle of town.

Kanda didn’t know whether to call it fortunate or unfortunate that the town was still lively with people walking about on the streets. On one hand, it would be easier to find a place to eat, but on the other, Kanda and Alma were a worrisome sight. The civilians’ concerned and frightened stares were easily ignored, but Kanda felt more on edge than usual. He was without his innocence – useless, in other words, if an Akuma decided to launch an attack. He and Alma probably had bounties on their heads from the Earl or the Order one.

Fighting off a growl of hunger from his own stomach, Kanda stepped inside the first restaurant he found. The place was half-empty and dimly-lit, good for masking Kanda and Alma’s haggard presences away in a corner. Kanda picked a booth in front of a window, moving his hands out from under Alma’s knees to help him into the seat.

As Alma settled onto his own feet, his hiss of pain tickled the back of Kanda’s ear. Kanda turned around to fit his hands against Alma’s waist, easing him into the booth behind his knees amidst hushed curses. Alma’s fists didn’t leave Kanda’s shirt until the furrow in his brow had softened.

A waitress who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else approached the two of them as Kanda slid into his booth across from Alma. She tossed two menus onto the table without saying anything before walking away, but Kanda didn’t mind. He just wanted food, and at that point he was so starved that he didn’t even care if it tasted good.

The waitress returned in a couple minutes with two glasses of water, ready to take their orders. Alma had been staring blankly at the menu for a while, but Kanda was almost certain that if he opened his mouth, drool would pour out in buckets. Kanda asked for a few dishes on the menu – meat, chicken, bread – not what he would usually eat, but his depraved body was filling his mind with odd and disproportionate cravings. Alma ordered even more than Kanda had, and the waitress’s eyebrows rose higher with each request.

Eventually, with a notepad full of scribbled entreé names, the waitress headed back toward the kitchen. Alma let his head fall to the table with a sigh, pulling one of his hands into his lap to massage his legs. They must’ve still been aching.

“Is it that bad?” Kanda asked.

Kanda hadn’t meant the question as a belittlement, but that’s how Alma took it. “Yes it is,” he insisted, tilting his head back up to fix Kanda with a glare. “I feel like shit.”

Kanda tried to recall a time where Alma had ever used as much foul language as he had in the past few hours. “Who taught you to talk like that?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure why it made him so uncomfortable. They were both adults.

“You-” Alma looked just as confused as Kanda felt, but suddenly he shook his head and averted his gaze. “I didn’t realize you’d become such a prude without me,” he muttered.

Defensively, Kanda opened his mouth to retort, but the slump in Alma’s shoulders seemed to suggest he was conceding. He didn’t want to argue, even over something petty. Kanda truly didn’t have the energy for it either, so he slumped back in his own seat, feeling awkward. Awkward and a lot of other, unidentifiable things.

The long pause of silence didn’t help to ease Kanda’s cluster of emotions. His empty stomach became a playground for bugs of anxiety as he watched Alma look out the window, head still on the table. How were they supposed to talk to each other normally? Kanda couldn't even think of a conversation topic that wasn’t depressing or at the very least ill-suited for discussion in a public place. The more he thought about it, sitting down in a restaurant across from his supposed-to-be-dead friend was comically surreal.

After an agonizing wait, Kanda finally spotted their waitress marching toward the booth with trays full of food balanced precariously on her fingertips. Alma dragged his upper body off the table, his face lighting up as the waitress shoved plate after plate of food in front of them both, leaving with a labored sigh after her work was done. Kanda waved silverware in front of Alma’s face before he could start digging in with just his hands.

The tension in their silence lifted as they both ate, full mouths leaving no room for conversation. Kanda actually thought he could see the brightness returning to Alma’s eyes as he scarfed down the feast in front of him. It was just like watching Allen inhale ungodly amounts of Jerry’s cooking upon returning from a mission.

Thinking of Allen led Kanda to wonder what the outcome of yesterday’s battle had been. He couldn’t imagine that Allen had died, but simply put, he wondered which group had won the prize of taking him prisoner. After all that had happened, Allen would probably get treated better by the Noah than he would the Order.

Of course, Kanda also wondered if Lenalee was okay. Lavi too, he supposed, and those of the Order who were friendly with him. He turned to gaze out the window, as if the roads outside would lead him to the answers. Up until this point, his sole focus had been worrying over Alma. Now he hoped that his friends’ distance from the main fight had kept them safe - or at least alive. He tried to believe that they wouldn’t die so easily either, but it was hard to have confidence when Kanda had only barely escaped yesterday with his own life.

When the waitress approached their table once more, Kanda turned his attention back to the present. She dropped the check on the edge of the table for “whenever they were ready” and walked off looking happy to be self-relieved of her duties. Kanda, however, had gotten stuck on the sight of Alma staring at him, metal fork resting between his lips. Alma’s face reddened when their eyes met, but it took him nearly a minute to look away - plenty of time for Kanda’s face to grow even redder in comparison. The way Alma’s gaze drifted meticulously over each of Kanda’s features - it made him feel like Alma was touching him without even reaching across the table.

Did he really look so different, Kanda wondered? Alma had recognized him quickly enough yesterday, so what was the point in staring at him like he was trying to memorize every blemish on Kanda’s skin? He hated the heat it brought to his face and the twist it brought to his gut. What game was Alma playing?

While Kanda tried to cool (or simply hide) his blush with his palms, Alma nonchalantly reached for the bill they’d been saddled with. Kanda dragged his fingers down from his eyes in time to see Alma frown nervously. No doubt they owed a fortune after all they’d eaten, and Kanda hadn’t considered the fact that neither of them had any money.

“How are we supposed to pay for this?” Alma asked, sheepishly sliding the bill across the table toward Kanda.

Grumbling, Kanda patted his pockets with little hope. In one, he found a few coins of varying currency from his travels with the Order; there was no telling how long they’d been stuck in there. Considering the simple value of the metal in each, they could probably cover the cost of Alma and Kanda’s meals. But that still left them broke in their search for a place to stay the night. It was picky of him, but after making the trek into this town, Kanda didn’t feel like retreating back to Mater.

“How are your legs?” Kanda asked, shoving his coins back away into his pocket.

Curiously, Alma looked down at his thighs. “I think I can walk now.”

_Food must’ve helped_ , Kanda thought, scanning the restaurant for any sign of employees. “Great. Let’s go.”

Alma’s lips parted a little bit, but Kanda was getting up already, leaving no time to protest. Alma shimmied out of his booth and stood, wobbling, but seemingly not in pain. Kanda let him hold onto his shoulder for good measure, walking toward the door as fast as Alma could manage - which wasn’t very fast.

It wasn’t until they were yards down the street that a horrid screech made the hair on Kanda’s neck stand up. Their waitress was fuming at them from the door of the restaurant, screaming incomprehensibly. Though she wasn’t nearly as threatening as the bulky man Kanda saw approaching them, frying pan in hand. No time to waste, Kanda swept Alma into his arms and started running.

Their footrace dragged plenty of attention from civilians on the street, but thankfully the brute from the restaurant didn’t seem interested in chasing them for more than a few blocks. Still, Kanda reached the outskirts of town before slowing down, his breaths fogging up the chilly night air. Alma’s desperate grip on his shirt relaxed, and when Kanda glanced down at him, his eyes were lit up with the reflection of the stars overhead.

The night sky was clear and crisp, summoning a memory of Kanda’s: when he’d first seen the sky after escaping the Second Exorcist program. Was this Alma’s first time taking in the sight, Kanda wondered? He was wearing an expression almost bittersweet.

When Alma’s eyes flitted to observe Kanda’s face, he smiled, and lifted one hand to push Kanda’s bangs off his forehead. “It’s like the color of your hair,” he said. “The sky.”

That terrible heat had returned to Kanda’s cheeks, and Alma had the audacity to let his lips quirk into a barely suppressed smile, and then outright laugh, a little giggle escaping his mouth before he covered it with both hands. Had he not survived death a day ago, Kanda would’ve dropped him. As it was, Kanda unceremoniously dumped him out of his arms to stand on his own. At least he seemed to be in a better mood.

Wrapping himself around Kanda’s arm, Alma fished around in his pocket. “Do you think we could stay somewhere with this?” he asked, displaying a handful of loose money and two coin purses. “I’d really like to sleep in an actual bed.”

“Where did you get all that?” Kanda asked incredulously.

Alma stood tall and pressed one hand to his chest. “Don’t you remember how great of a pickpocket I was when we were kids? I just gathered some things while you were shoving through people on the street.”

With a hiss, Kanda dragged Alma into the shadow of the nearest building. Admitting to thievery out in the open was a level of idiocy that Kanda thought even Alma was above. Besides that, the pickpocketing Alma boasted of was nothing more than a game of stealing pens off of the lab technicians that used to study them everyday - a game where Alma was hardly ever discreet enough to win. _This_ displayed an incredible level of skill, leaving Kanda to wonder where he’d gotten it.

Mysteries aside, Kanda couldn’t ignore that they needed the money. “Give me that,” he demanded, snatching Alma’s prizes from his hand to take inventory. There was definitely enough collectively to get them one night in a cheap inn, maybe more. They could use the rest to buy decent clothes and food before hitting the road again. Kanda didn’t feel like they should stay in this town much longer.

Shifting from foot to foot, Alma pressed, “Well, what do you think? My feet are getting cold.”

Kanda glanced down at Alma’s bare feet on the cobble street, and his sense of urgency returned to him. “We need to find something nearby,” Kanda replied. “If we double back too far, we’d probably get into trouble.”

Alma nodded his agreement, then pointed at something over Kanda’s shoulder. “What about there?”

Behind Kanda and through an alleyway, Alma pointed to the sign of a small, beat-down inn. Just what Kanda had been looking for. He held his hand out for Alma to keep himself steady as they crossed the street and slunk through the alley. A candle was lit in the front window of the inn, the only indication that they might still be open. Kanda tentatively tested the door handle, finding it unlocked.

As the door opened, Alma jumped against Kanda’s back as a young child loudly welcomed them to the establishment. “What can I do for you kind sirs today?” he asked proudly, appearing ready to jump over the counter he was sitting behind. “We have plenty of rooms, or-”

“Give us the cheapest one,” Kanda interrupted, offering the kid what he was willing to pay. “And don’t tell anyone you saw us.”

Rather than being confused, the boy looked as if he’d just been honored with a mission of utmost importance. Taking Kanda’s payment, he fished a key out of the counter drawer, detailing far too extensively where their room was on the second floor. Kanda tuned him out as soon as he read the key’s room number. Alma shuffled to the staircase on the left side of the room as Kanda bid a rushed farewell to their excitable host. He wondered where the kid’s parents were.

The room waiting for them was expectedly small, at the end of a hallway of doors. There was a bed with one window above it letting in light from the street lamps, a desk and a dresser taking up most of the remaining floor space. Kanda investigated a door on the left wall and found it led to a modest bathroom, shared with the adjacent room. Alma took the liberty of diving face-first into the bed, which was only big enough to comfortably fit one person. Kanda didn’t have the right to complain after only paying bare minimum for the accommodations.

Realizing how grimy he felt from just a day on the run, Kanda locked himself in the bathroom to shower. He felt refreshed for the effort, even after having to put his worn clothes back on. With curiosity, he peeked into the room opposite his and Alma’s. It looked identical to theirs, and was conveniently empty.

Kanda walked back into their room with a towel over his shoulders, keeping his damp hair from wetting his shirt. “The room next door is empty. I’m going to sleep over there for the night.”

Alma rolled over with sudden alarm, the sheets on the bed already disturbed from his quick respite. “What? Why?”

“This bed is the size of a kid’s bed,” Kanda scoffed. Maybe he was exaggerating, but he and Alma were both tall enough that finding room for their legs at the least would be a challenge. “I don’t want to wake up on the floor.”

“You can sleep next to the wall,” Alma reasoned, sliding over and patting the empty mattress space left behind.

The more he looked at Alma’s earnest expression, the faster Kanda caved in. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “At least go take a bath first.”

Clearly happy with the compromise - nearly downright smug - Alma slithered out of bed and drifted toward the bathroom door with a satisfied smile. Kanda took his place on the mattress, squeezing so close to the wall that his nose nearly touched it. Huffing out a breath of annoyance, he wondered why he was so easily weakened by Alma’s expressions of pleading, especially when it was only a means to an end, a cute face Alma put on to get his way.

Kanda rolled his shoulder harshly, as if he could shake the thoughts from his mind. He probably only felt guilty about their past, and his heart was going to make sacrifices on his behalf in order to relieve that weight piece by piece. Strange, that Kanda felt no less guilty and only more confused, an anxious flutter settling in his stomach when he closed his eyes and saw Alma’s subtle grin painted on the inside of his eyelids.

Water was running in the bathroom, the sound muffled through the door, but that was what Kanda latched onto in order to lull himself to sleep. No more thoughts about Alma, no more thoughts about the past, no more thoughts about anything. There would be more time for that in the morning. Kanda was asleep before Alma even shut the water off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i started writing this fic about three years ago, and after many rewrites and - of course - copious months of ignoring it, i'm finally ecstatic to be able to post this first chapter!! as i love this pairing with my whole heart, it was hard to stop continuously editing and rewriting even the simplest of phrases to make it "perfect"
> 
> i hope you enjoyed, and i'd love to hear feedback if you have any! i've no dgm friends so this is me throwing all my built up feelings into the void for relief
> 
> if you'd like to keep updated on my writing process, you can find me [@stellar_elegy](https://twitter.com/stellar_elegy) on twitter, or on my main [@interstellar_13](https://twitter.com/interstellar_13) for 95% more screeching


	2. Chapter 2

A gentle call of his name convinced Kanda to open his eyes, facing a void of blue-tinged darkness. His eyelids were quick to slide closed again, chasing the sticky tendrils of sleep still clinging to his heavy limbs. He heard the voice again, and found himself once more staring sleepily into the darkness ahead of him, though he couldn’t remember opening his eyes. Brow furrowing, Kanda began to wake as he honed in on the distant voice behind him. Again, a drawn out whine of his name reached his ears, like whoever wanted his attention was pleading for it, impatient. He couldn’t place the voice - didn’t even know if it was one person speaking - only that the melody was familiar, planting a seed of nostalgia deep between his lungs.

Gathering the willpower, Kanda turned to seek out the owner of said melody, heart jumping with a sudden start when he found Alma behind him, much closer than the voice had sounded. Kanda had already forgotten that he’d been convinced to cram together in bed with him. Yet...Kanda didn’t feel like he was crammed anywhere. In fact, he felt as if he was floating, suspended in midair. And Alma - Alma was shrouded in the dark mist that surrounded the two of them, leaning forward until he could drape his arms over Kanda’s stiffened shoulders.

“Yuu,” Alma began, soft voice echoing strangely in Kanda’s ears, “did you miss me?”

The warmth of nostalgia in Kanda’s chest was quickly wilting into liquid dread, making his blood run cold. He wasn’t sure why Alma’s floating visage was making him so uncomfortable, icy sweat beading on Kanda’s temple as he was judged by a controlled blue gaze. He opened his mouth with the intention to respond, only to have his tongue turn to cotton when he felt Alma’s breath ghost against his lips.

It was like Kanda blinked, and then Alma was close enough for their noses to touch without even seeming to move. In Kanda’s chest, the grip of foreboding still held strong, but a fire was kindled at the nape of his neck, where Alma’s fingers slowly twisted in his hair. Kanda couldn’t see anything past Alma’s lowered eyelids, couldn’t force his limbs to move as heat trickled down his spine and pooled in his stomach. It was then that Alma disappeared, and Kanda realized that those eyes hadn’t been Alma’s. He caught a blur of blonde hair dissolving into the rolling mist around him.

With his mind suddenly clearer, Kanda flailed out in the dark, trying to find an escape. In no time, an arm wrapped around Kanda’s shoulders, a cold body pressing into his bare back. Alma’s fingers curled loosely around the base of Kanda’s neck like the gentlest of threats, but Kanda had already lost the will to move.

“Did you think about me?” Alma asked, letting his head rest against Kanda’s and his lips move against the shell of his ear. His hand slipped down, fingernails scraping the vulnerable skin of Kanda’s naked chest. “Did you remember me, Yuu?”

Even as the physical weight on his shoulders vanished again, Kanda came under the burden of a plague of guilt. That dread he felt at being questioned by Alma - it was because of Kanda’s answer to those questions.

Alma answered for him. “You didn’t, did you?” It was said like a taunt, the combined voice of Alma and his past life disembodied somewhere above Kanda’s head. “Even after you killed me, you couldn’t spare me a single memory? Only…”

Alma materialized again, but it wasn’t him. It was _her_ , leaning forward out of the misty background to press her finger under Kanda’s chin. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore an expression of cold disinterest, though underneath, Kanda could sense something more sinister. Alma’s hatred.

Tilting Kanda’s head upward, the woman drifted toward him until she could press the lengths of their bodies to each other. Legs wrapping together, she cradled his face and finally looked at him like a lover. Kanda felt nothing. Nothing until the illusion flickered before his eyes, and Alma - _his_ Alma - took the place of his previous incarnation, and the surface of Kanda’s skin burned like Alma had lit a fire against it.

“Yuu,” Alma murmured, and Kanda ached at the fact that he couldn’t move to close the hairsbreadth gap between their lips. “Are you _sorry_?”

-

The plunge into the waking world was like getting thrown into a pool of arctic water. Kanda spasmed awake on his small sliver of the bed, rushing to sit upright like the pillow beneath his head had been the cause for his cursed nightmare. Predictably, Alma stirred in the wake of the sudden movement, but he was the last person Kanda wanted to talk to.

“Yuu?” he mumbled wearily, rubbing one eye as he propped himself up on an elbow. “What’s wrong?”

In the low light, Kanda stared at Alma’s face for a long moment, waiting for any shift in his appearance to come forward. Of course, he saw none, but the odd behavior was enough to make Alma sit up fully, leaning over like he wasn’t taking up too much of Kanda’s space to begin with.

“It’s nothing,” Kanda said gruffly before Alma had a chance to ask again. He threw himself back down on the bed. “Weird dream.”

Alma’s dissatisfaction was palpable. Memories - wretched things - flooded Kanda’s brain, reminding him of the sheer amount of times Alma had offered him comfort after nightmares when they were children. Back then, Kanda never answered his questions either, and often refused any help at all. There were only a handful of times when Kanda had been distressed or exhausted enough to let Alma crawl into his bed and cling to him - like that would keep back the visions Kanda regularly suffered through. After what he’d just seen, that arrangement sounded like the furthest thing from comforting.

In a couple minutes, Alma huffed and let his body fall back on the mattress. His shoulder dug into Kanda’s spine, but Kanda stayed motionless in the hope he’d convince Alma he was already back asleep. Maybe he could convince his own body that he was as well.

As time dragged on, Kanda’s thoughts regrettably circled back to reflect on the content of his nightmare. He wasn’t one to be shaken by twisted dreams, used to sleeping like a baby through graphic revisitings of his day-to-day akuma killing. It was that fact that made him ashamed to have been frightened awake by a dream that was relatively mundane. It had made him feel vulnerable - that was the problem. At least in his dreams of war, he could fight back. But inside his nightmare, Kanda’s ability to speak or even move had been all but stripped away from him.

That dream had laid his truth bare, Alma fishing it out of him without even making Kanda speak. He hadn’t missed Alma. Hadn’t thought of him. Remembered him, yes, but only as a piece of his dark past, never to be spoken of. And was he sorry? That simple question had shattered the fabric of Kanda’s nightmare and sent him jolting awake. Because Kanda...wasn’t sure of the answer.

At least it had been a dream, stuck in Kanda’s head instead of a real confrontation. Though Alma's blame-heavy interrogation wasn’t the only part of Kanda’s dream that left him reeling and uncomfortable in his own skin. That woman, now known to him as Alma’s first incarnation, had only ever appeared to Kanda from afar. They’d never interacted, never spoken. Yet now, since Kanda had learned the truth about her identity, she and Alma had become nearly one in the same. Layered on top of one another, never truly separate. Kanda had spent his whole life chasing her, yet when trapped against her, he’d wanted to run away. Until…

Kanda blew a long breath out of his nose. He didn’t want to analyse why his dream-self had been so _allured_ by his best friend. The one he was sharing a bed with. Just the thought of it made his stomach twist and his face flush. He felt sick.

When a hand hesitantly landed on his arm seconds later, Kanda had to exert massive effort not to jerk away. Alma had _the worst_ timing - not that he could read Kanda’s thoughts. Apparently he believed Kanda was asleep, his gentle hand moving away as he repositioned his body ever-carefully, sliding close to Kanda’s back and slipping an arm around his waist. Clinging to him, just as he’d done when they were kids.

Kanda didn’t get back to sleep. Alma did, with his nose pressed into the back of Kanda’s neck, making the hair on Kanda’s skin rise with each of his breaths. Kanda gave himself a headache with how fervently he was staring at the wall in front of him. It never once crossed his mind that he could just push Alma away.

When the room started to brighten with the light of the rising sun, Kanda viewed it as his saving grace, an excuse to finally get up and on the move. He was overly-careful in prying Alma’s arm from around his midsection, though climbing over him to get out of the bed still woke his companion up. As Kanda walked to the bathroom, Alma rolled over to inhabit the warm space he left on the sheets, gathering the single pillow against his face.

Thinking it best to take advantage of their accommodations while they were available, Kanda spent a short few minutes taking another lukewarm shower. Afterward, he examined himself in the mirror hung over the bathroom sink, looking for any lingering signs of injury. He found none worth making note of, but a frown still upturned his lips at the sight of the black tattoo flooding over his shoulder. He wondered, not for the first time, if this would finally be his last second chance.

As Kanda reached behind him for his shirt left on the nearby towel rack, the bathroom door clicked open and gave way to a groggy-looking Alma. Kanda hadn’t thought to lock the door, though it wasn’t as if Alma had walked in on anything. He _could_ have, and Kanda thought to reprimand him for it before Alma spoke up himself.

“Ugly things,” he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. He stopped slouching and rapped a soft knuckle against Kanda’s chest, over the middle of his Second Exorcist tattoo. “Though...at least we match.”

The defensive spark in Kanda’s chest died quickly. Alma’s tattoo was peeking out of the collar of his oversized shirt, only a stark line of black pigment visible. Kanda had never thought one way or another about the mark’s appearance, whether it was attractive or not. It was just a reminder of his past, his irregular mortality. _Theirs_ , now. That was probably what Alma found most ugly about them.

While Alma sequestered himself in the bathroom, Kanda tried to find something in their room that he could use in place of a hair tie. Usually, wearing it down wasn’t a bother, but Kanda would prefer the option, at least, of tucking it away. He longed for that small sense of normalcy, predicting that the days ahead wouldn’t be getting any less strange and uncertain than the last two he’d lived.

It took little time for Kanda to extend his search into the wider area of the inn, the initial purpose of his inspection all but forgotten. He was more curious to see if he and Alma had accrued any neighbors overnight, or if he could find forgotten belongings in the surrounding rooms to poach for himself.

As soon as Kanda placed one foot into the hallway, he froze, his body stiffening with the rise of the hairs on the back of his neck. Something was off.

Alma emerged from the bathroom rubbing a towel over his face, but the sound of his footsteps faltered at the sight of Kanda bristling in the doorway. “What…” he began, but even he stilled as he sensed the same unsettling atmosphere that Kanda had.

The feeling wasn’t anything easily explained. There was nothing visibly different about the hallway before them, yet opening the room’s door seemed to have let in this strange, off-putting air. Kanda’s body was already preparing for a fight without even confirming the presence of a threat. It was then he realized his own helplessness, reaching for Mugen sheathed at his waist and finding nothing.

Operating on the assumption that there was an akuma in the building, Kanda turned to zero in on the window above the bed. Dropping from just the second floor of the inn would be easily accomplishable without injury, though Kanda’s pride was already feeling wounded. If it weren’t for Alma, Kanda probably would’ve convinced himself to ignore his intuition and march downstairs unarmed, undeterred by a measly _odd feeling_. But he couldn’t brush it off as only his imagination when Alma had felt it too.

Kanda left the door hanging open as he walked swiftly across the room to the single window. Alma barely moved, one arm crossed over his chest to clutch his shoulder, like he was trying to protect himself from their unseen enemy. His nose was crinkled like he smelled something foul, but his eyes still stared into the hallway, unfocused.

The window was nearly rooted into place from disuse, but Kanda forcefully started to inch it open, taking the sound of wood splintering around the frame as a good sign. “We can just...jump from here,” Kanda grunted, realizing he hadn’t yet shared his plan with Alma. “It’s not a long fall.”

Alma didn’t respond immediately. With one final show of effort, the window slipped open wide under Kanda’s hands. He turned to face Alma and found him peeking around the doorframe and into the hallway.

“That kid…” he worried, squeezing his shoulder with a grimace.

“He’s probably already dead,” Kanda quipped, eager to leave.

“No…” Alma replied, voice strangely soft as he drifted out into the hallway.

“ _Alma_ ,” Kanda hissed, jumping up from where he kneeled on the bed. “What the hell are you doing?”

No response. Kanda’s heart sank as Alma disappeared from sight completely, but he didn’t stall in rushing out of the room after him. Alma was already at the crest of the staircase, but Kanda couldn’t catch him before he was rushing - no, _stumbling_ \- down the stairs, acting like a man possessed. Kanda stumbled down himself, panic making him clumsy as the stench of death finally reached his nose. Alma was about to walk right into an akuma; Kanda knew it.

Kanda was on the first floor just in time to see everything unfold. There _was_ and akuma, an ugly, two-headed terror, but it couldn’t have been much more than a level one. Still deadly, of course, to anyone without a weapon to kill it with, clearly evidenced by two bloodied bodies on the ground just inside the inn’s ajar front door.

Between Kanda and the grotesque scene stood Alma, hunched over like he was in immense pain. Kanda was prepared to launch ahead and throw himself into the line of fire - maybe if he grabbed Alma quick enough, they could make it out the door? - but before he could lift a foot, Alma’s body convulsed, lurching forward. His right arm jerked away from his body as if being tugged around by an invisible hand. It twisted awkwardly in the air, stretching the human limits of Alma’s flesh and tendons before the terrible sound of ripping muscle echoed in the room, accompanied by a flash of light.

After the light dissipated and Kanda was able to blink away the spots in his vision, he could see exactly what had occurred in his short second of blindness - though the sight was hard to comprehend. The akuma was dead, disintegrating around a wing-like scythe of innocence almost as blindingly white as the light that had birthed it. Kanda was suddenly sick with the pain of memory, reliving a nightmare he thought was long passed.

For a moment, while his stomach churned and his mind toiled in equal parts disbelief and horror, Kanda didn’t move, didn’t even _breathe_. Then Alma shuddered, his taut muscles relaxing. Kanda watched him lift his left hand to his face; it came away wet with blood.

In a few hurried steps, Kanda brought himself around to view Alma in full. The innocence had taken over Alma’s entire arm, ripping through half of his shirt. Tendrils of it groped at the right side of his torso, squirming like worms in dirt as it reached toward the center of his chest. Alma looked up at Kanda with an expression of shock, like he hadn’t expected to see him. The whites of his eyes were stained red with blood, sticky tears streaking down his cheeks. Blood from his nose had been smeared across his lips.

Alma began to look around, truly taking in his surroundings as if he’d just awoken from some dream. Kanda felt like he was stuck in a vat of quicksand, unable to move, think, speak. He watched Alma draw conclusions from the remnants of bodies around him, akuma flesh still evaporating under his innocence-claimed arm. He wondered what Alma thought he’d done, if he assumed he was living in some pitiful replay of that day nine years ago.

Even while his head was still stuck in the last decade, Kanda’s body moved with a mind of its own. One step toward Alma sent his innocence thrashing, unrefined and uncontrollable. Kanda tipped backward, narrowly avoiding a scythe to the neck, but he catapulted himself back forward in time to hook his hand firmly around the white blade before it burrowed itself in Alma’s chest.

The innocence quivered in front of Alma’s sternum, scraping the tattered cloth of his shirt as Kanda trembled with the effort to keep holding on even though it felt like his fingers were about to be sliced off his hand. Alma’s face was downcast, eyes empty like he wasn’t even present and his body was only a discarded husk of himself. Kanda opened his mouth to call out to him, but what escaped was merely a garbled sound of pain as his blood-soaked hand slipped from its perch.

Kanda fell to the floor with the weight of his own force, immediately cradling his open wound to his chest. He’d gotten Alma’s attention though, and somehow the innocence had only made it a centimeter into his skin, a single drop of blood escaping around the point of the weapon. Alma stared at Kanda’s bloodied hand and recognition dawned in his eyes, a distant sparkle of spirit returning.

“Alma-” Kanda started, just to break the tense silence of the room.

There was no time for idle chatter. Alma’s eyes rolled up inside his skull as he fell straight backward, hitting the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Kanda scrambled to his knees, grabbing for Alma’s innocence in sudden fear it had killed him, but it dissipated before Kanda got a hand on it. Alma was eerily still underneath him, as pale as the two bodies he laid amongst.

His innocence had tried to kill him. Kanda was sure of it. His innocence had acted with a mind of its own, first dragging Alma downstairs, tracking the scent of an akuma in their midst and killing it - as was its nature. And then it had turned on its host in the blink of an eye, ready to carve through Alma’s skin. Kanda sat heavily at Alma’s feet and wondered if he had been wrong from the beginning. He cursed himself for allowing hope to poison his mind, making him think that Alma was strong enough to kill an akuma even if it had already taken control of his body. He could, Kanda supposed. But not without killing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh...happy halloween???
> 
> thanks everyone for being so patient waiting for this chapter...i've been working on it really slowly over the past several months, so i apologize if some parts seem a little disconnected from the rest (beta who?? idk her...). it's a bit shorter than i intended but i'm happier with this chapter cut-off as opposed to the one i had previously thought out. hope you enjoy the addition however relatively short it is haha
> 
> thanks for all the feedback on the first chapter!! i truly expected like 2 people to read this fic (one of them being me) so the amount of people i see actually reading it is kinda wacky to me lol. i'm glad others like these two as much as i do <3 it keeps me motivated!!


	3. Chapter 3

Kanda hated train rides. They were uncomfortable, noisy, crowded - his list of complaints was almost as dreadfully long as the trip itself. And it was only growing longer with each passing hour.

Within several days, they’d been through several countries, on a handful of trains, with only the clothes on their back and a few items of use that Kanda had “collected” in his bag. All of it was stolen, mostly from train passengers while they slept, since the little money they had was to be spent on train tickets and food. This should be the last ride they had to endure.

Beside Kanda, Alma sat dejectedly, slumped against the window on his right side. He’d been like that the entire week; reserved and brooding, his eyes were empty of that lifely light Kanda had glimpsed before everything went back to shit. He felt partly to blame, seeing as it had taken no small amount of persuasion to get Alma to agree to return to the Black Order. Kanda had no desire to return either, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t going to risk another episode of Alma’s innocence turning on him.

Kanda had plenty of time to think through the plan a week prior, after Alma had collapsed. He’d stayed unconscious for hours, and while Kanda methodically cleaned the inn - he didn’t want either of them being accused of _murder_ \- he went through their options. His first instinct had been to reach Komui and have Alma’s innocence inspected and refined into something more usable and less dangerous. Yet the European Branch was no doubt still swarming with officers from Central and the North American Branch. Alma would be swept away on sight, if not killed.

The next logical step was to head to the Asian Branch. It was the only other branch that Kanda knew his way around, and he felt confident that Bak, at least, would be willing to help Alma, and that was the in Kanda needed. Alma had been even more adamant about not going to China than he had about walking into an army of Central officers out for his blood. He’d rather risk dying than return to the place of their childhood, and Kanda couldn’t blame him. Still, he insisted. If Alma wanted to stay by Kanda’s side, he had no choice but to come along.

The bitter taste of guilt was becoming familiar in Kanda’s mouth. He looked over at Alma’s hunched body, sunlight glistening through the trees as they hurtled across the countryside. The spots of brightness dancing across Alma’s face and shoulders seemed to be mocking his somber mood as he stared out the window with disinterest. In his lap, the fingers of his left hand lazily picked at the bandages he’d wrapped around his right arm. The swath of cloth was beginning to unravel, revealing the stark white, cracked porcelain skin underneath.

His excuse for smothering the arm in wrappings had been that it was sensitive to the touch. Kanda didn’t know how much of that was true. Didn’t care. He knew that Alma hated looking at it, at what his body was changing into. He’d seen the rage with his own eyes that first day, when it was only Alma’s hand. Now the statue-esque color had spread up the length of his forearm, followed by spiderwebs of cracks and chips. Kanda hated looking at it too. It reminded him too vividly of the day they’d almost died, and made him anxious that death had been Alma’s fate all along.

Aware he was staring, Kanda looked away, up to meet Alma’s eyes staring back at him in the faint reflection of the window. Yet his eyes were too wide, his face too round. Kanda blinked once, harder and longer than he should have. He heard Alma shuffle in place, and when he opened his eyes again, his companion looked at him head-on, his expression still as dead-pan as before.

“Who were you looking at?” Alma asked. _Who_ , not what.

Visions of Her had become increasingly prominent. She showed up in flashes: a reflection in a puddle, a rustle of blonde hair in Kanda’s peripheral vision. He felt like She was laughing at him, torturing him with the fear that one day, his Alma would be all but lost to him. Alma had taken notice easily, at the beginning when Kanda had grown visibly shocked at every fleeting apparition. Now, he knew how to mask the surprise. But not from the one person with whom it mattered.

Kanda felt like he could see Alma’s eyes narrowing the longer he took to respond. “You,” he said lightly, his voice a little breathier than he would’ve liked. Alma had never asked him such a direct question, always dancing around what he truly wanted to know like maybe he didn’t want to actually know it at all. Or maybe he already knew. Kanda had never told him the truth of what his sudden starts were about, but Alma was a lot smarter - more calculating, more cunning - than Kanda remembered.

Even though nothing on his face changed, Kanda knew Alma was dissatisfied with his answer. Tension tugged tight at Kanda’s shoulders, and seeking to break it, he looked down again at where Alma’s hands were gathered in his lap. He’d fitted his left pointer finger under the bandages on his right palm, like he was searching for an itch to scratch.

Kanda grabbed his left hand swiftly, pulling it away. “Stop messing with it. I thought it hurt.”

“It does,” Alma answered smoothly, though his face had grown more open in surprise. He stared at where Kanda grasped his hand in the air between them. Before Kanda could let go, Alma twisted his wrist to capture Kanda’s palm in his own, fingers slipping between each other. Kanda’s heart did a little backflip in his chest, for some reason.

Alma only used the new position to bring Kanda’s own hand closer for inspection. “It’s fine,” Kanda dismissed, worried his cheeks were going to redden and trying to pull his hand away.

Alma hummed noncommittally. He shifted closer to Kanda as his thumb peeled up Kanda’s own bandaged hand, revealing the haphazard path of messy stitches stretching across his palm. His fingers were each covered separately, a small strip of cloth around the midsection of each hiding the stitching underneath. Kanda had sown himself up after half an hour of hoping in vain the bleeding would stop, fending off lightheadedness while he raided the inn’s back rooms for a needle and thread.

Of course Alma felt at fault. Kanda knew without having to ask. His hand twitched involuntarily as Alma’s thumb crossed the sensitive gash with the barest of touches. The wound was closed now, but the skin around it was red and angry, searing with pinpricks of pain whenever it so much as brushed against something. Alma had taken the role of supervising the healing process against Kanda’s will.

But that was the problem. Not Alma, but _healing_. Yes, the injury had been bad and would have benefitted from the care of an actual doctor. But on the scale of everything Kanda had endured in his lifetime, this one wound ranked pretty low. It should’ve been fully healed by now. But his Second Exorcist genes seemed to be on vacation.

“You should take the stitches out,” Alma suggested, hands still cupped around Kanda’s and treating him like a pile of broken glass.

“When did you go to medical school?” Kanda snipped, a bit flustered by the way Alma was running his fingers down the back of his hand. Was it supposed to feel so tingly?

Alma sighed, his annoyance quiet. He let go of Kanda, and just like that, scooted away and curled back up against the window. Kanda stared at him stupidly, his mouth half open. Apparently, Alma wasn’t in the mood to have his buttons pressed.

With a suppressed huff, Kanda bent over to rustle through the bag at his feet, searching for the pocket knife he knew was inside. He didn’t mind removing the stitches. He hoped it would make his hand itch less, at least. Alma didn’t move when Kanda stood and walked to the bathroom at the back of the train car, already starting to unravel and cut at the stitches with his blade.

The process only took a few minutes. Kanda returned to his and Alma’s seat with a bare, freshly washed and freshly irritated hand. He stooped to fish a roll of bandages out of his bag but quickly discovered that Alma already had them in hand. He beckoned for Kanda to sit down next to him.

Quietly, quickly, Alma took care to redress Kanda’s wound. Kanda tried not to overanalyze the contrast of rough calluses on Alma’s hand against the gentleness with which his fingertips worked, sending sparks of sensation all the way up to Kanda’s shoulder. After Alma finished, it took Kanda a moment to realize he was done. Alma had yet to let go of his hand, face close enough that Kanda could feel the puffs of his breath. What was he going to do, kiss it better? Why did Kanda flush at the thought? His fingers twitched with the sudden urge to clasp Alma’s chin between them.

Clearing his throat, Alma backed off, letting Kanda’s hand go. The pink blush high on his cheeks became visible when he sat up, eyes averted. “I didn’t go to medical school.”

_I know that, dumbass,_ Kanda wanted to say, but Alma continued. “She - well, she didn’t either. But she was always...good with that sort of thing.”

Several moments passed with only the rumbling of the train to fill the silence. After spending the whole week locked in a delicate dance of dismissed questions and conversations, it took Kanda far too long to process Alma’s subtle admittance; he _knew_. And he knew a lot more than Kanda did, apparently.

“You remember?” Kanda asked, voice strained by the stuttering beats of his heart. He felt like all the oxygen was getting slowly sucked out of his lungs.

Alma suddenly looked well beyond his years, still staring out the window wearing an expression of melancholy. Kanda wanted to reach out and shake him, he needed to hear his answer, wanted to know absolutely everything that Alma knew about their past lives.

Realistically, it only took Alma a couple of seconds to reply, but to Kanda it felt like hours as his anticipation mounted. “When I was captive, I dreamt...remembered. Whatever you want to call it. I lived out Her life in bits and pieces.”

In his voice was a certain malice, wrapped around the word “her” like it was sour upon his tongue. It cautioned Kanda from immediately pressing for more information.

Alma twisted his upper body to place his shoulders against the window, legs soon following so that he sat back, looking at Kanda relaxedly. His eyelids lowered scrutinously. “We were lovers, in the past. Did you know that?”

Somehow, the statement didn’t shock Kanda in the slightest. Had he known that? Deduced it somewhere along the years? Or perhaps, was it just the hidden presence of memories from his past life that made the notion feel familiar?

Despite avoiding surprise, Kanda’s face still grew hot. Alma seemed like he had issued a challenge, the sliver of his irises studying Kanda in silence. Kanda could only think of the dream he’d had during their night at the inn. He supposed it made more sense to him now...but was Alma implying that they were destined to be lovers in this life as well? Kanda suddenly felt so dizzyingly sick he thought he might fall out of his seat.

Without receiving whatever answer he sought, Alma turned back to gaze out the window. “I guess that’s why you were always chasing after her,” he commented plainly.

To Kanda, that sounded like an insult. Desperate to regain his footing in the one-sided conversation, he blurted out, “What about me, then? You never saw my-”

The glare Alma cut over his shoulder was furious. “ _He_ was nothing like you,” he insisted. “And _I_ am nothing like _Her_.”

It was clear Alma meant for that to be the end of the conversation. Kanda could almost feel the anger radiating off of him, staring at his hunched shoulders as if they were a wall blocking Kanda out. Those morsels of information weren’t enough to satisfy, though, not by a longshot.

“You didn’t forget?” Kanda tried, delicately. “Living Her life for so long didn’t make you forget who you were? Who I was?”

When Alma jolted around, Kanda thought he was about to get hit. However, Alma’s demeanor had changed in an instant. He looked hurt that Kanda would even suggest such a thing, scrambling to reassure him.

“Of course not!” Alma insisted, eyebrows pinched together. “I...It’s-”

Kanda grabbed his wrist, feeling Alma start to slip away as soon as he started talking. “Tell me,” he pleaded, even though it made him feel vile, taking advantage of Alma when he was vulnerable. “Please.”

Alma caved with ease. He listened, though not without a long pause to think and fumble with his words a bit more. “I wasn’t always remembering the past,” he finally admitted, slumped against the back of the seat. Kanda had let go of his wrist, but they sat close enough that their knees pressed together. “There was another...dream, sort of, that I would have. One where nothing bad had ever happened, and the two of us...grew up like normal. Well, as exorcists.”

Tilting his head back against the seat, Alma continued, “I don’t think it was my imagination fueling it, though. My earliest memory after...you know...is one of someone speaking to me, telling me there had been some sort of accident or attack on the Order, and you and I had barely survived…” Alma trailed off, shaking his head and then clutching it like it hurt. “They made me believe in an alternate timeline of events. I thought that those dreams I had afterward were real life. They probably just had someone sit down and read me a fabricated story every day.”

Even though it sounded outlandish, the concept wasn’t something Kanda would put past the Order. If they planned for Alma to survive, they’d want to make sure they could turn him back to their side so that they could use him for their benefit when he eventually awoke. Hence the fairy-tale life Alma dreamt of in his time unconscious.

After a moment spent massaging his forehead, Alma went on. “After a while I stopped believing it. Things didn’t seem right anymore, the dreams came less frequently. They probably gave up on me. I feel like I spent days floating around in nothing. I thought I was dead. Then I started remembering Her life.”

“From the beginning?” Kanda asked.

Alma shrugged, shook his head. “It’s kind of fuzzy. I sort of remember Her childhood. I mostly remember Her life from when she became an exorcist. Then when she met Him, fell in love...all that stuff.”

“Vividly?” Kanda asked, praying the vibrating of his nerves didn’t come through in his voice.

Alma looked at him as he mulled over the question. “I guess it’s become more of a distant memory now. Even then, things always looked so dull and out of focus. But when they met…” Alma smiled almost fondly. “I was so relieved, Yuu. He was so bright - I knew who it was immediately. Even though I was looking at Him, it was like I could see _you_.”

Alma placed his hand square on Kanda’s chest, eyes watery as he stared at his own fingers. “It was still your soul. It was warm and glowing and I - I had been so _lonely_ -”

Alma choked on his own words, slipping his hand down to lay his head in its place against Kanda’s chest. Kanda reacted without thought, squeezing Alma against him and feeling him shake as he wrapped his arms around Kanda’s torso and squeezed even harder. Kanda felt Alma’s fear and sadness as if were his own, heart beating rapidly under Alma’s listening ear.

“You know,” Alma sniffled, “sometimes if I focused hard enough, I could see your face instead of His. It was hard, though, imagining what you would look like grown up. I don’t think I even got close.”

“That so?” Kanda asked, looking down at Alma awkwardly cradled in his arms.

Alma grinned despite his puffy eyes and red nose. “Well for one, I never thought you’d let your hair get this long.” Kanda frowned, preparing a rebuttal before Alma rushed to continue. “I like it though,” he soothed, catching a strand that fell over Kanda’s shoulder. “It suits you.”

Kanda watched Alma’s eyes grow soft as twirled the strand of hair around his finger. “You don’t ever see Him?” he asked, ignoring Alma’s hand now reaching to pick at his hair tie like he was asking permission to remove it.

“No,” Alma answered, sitting back up when Kanda shook his meddling hand away. “To be honest, I can barely even remember what He looks like now.”

If the small smile Alma gave him was meant to be reassuring, Kanda felt anything but. If, after seeing Kanda again, the man he was in the past seemed to have become nothing to Alma; why was Kanda experiencing the opposite? Alma’s presence just seemed to invoke the visage of his past life, rather than replace it.

“Well, I told you what I’ve been up to for the past nine years,” Alma said, scuffing his ill-fitted boots against the floor. Kanda glanced up at him. “Now it’s your turn.”

She was there again, in his place. Alma had forgotten the Kanda Yuu of the past. So which Alma Karma was Kanda destined to leave behind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again and thank you for reading! i'll do the same as i did last chapter and say apologies if this doesn't quite blend together well, i have a habit of writing half a chapter and then leaving for 2 months before returning to write the rest........ha
> 
> i really appreciate the continued support of this fic. it means the world to me, honestly. hope you enjoy <3


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